


Call Me Up

by poludeuces



Category: Fate/strange fake
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, orlando is a homosexual man i will not elaborate on this, this takes place after the events of book 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poludeuces/pseuds/poludeuces
Summary: Orlando and Caster engage in some stress relief phone sex.
Relationships: Orlando Reeve/Alexandre Dumas | False Caster
Kudos: 3





	Call Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> hello, some things
> 
> \- involves phone sex and some dirty talk  
> \- this takes place after the events of the second light novel/third manga book. some small references to what happens then during that wrt jester fight  
> \- orlando is a homosexual man no i will not elaborate  
> \- i use caster here just cause like, even tho by that point we know it's dumas it's just sexier for me you know cmon

Orlando sighed into his chair. In the distance he could hear the sounds of footsteps and doors closing. His office was a mess. Shattered glass cracked under his feet and drywall clung to his shoulders. There was now a massive hole in the ceiling that ran through multiple floors. The front door had to be boarded off, the result of having a couch thrown through it.

That assassin sure had done a number on the police station. And that damn priest.

He undoes his holster from his belt and places his sword on the table. His fingers ran across its sheath, dipping where the handle sat snugly in. He can almost feel the energy bubble from under the surface.

Caster had told him that continued use of the sword would ‘unlock its true power’, whatever that meant. Wielding it felt like holding a bomb. He had been fighting with swords and guns his whole life, but this weapon was proving to be far more powerful than anything he had used before. 

But he would need to learn how to use it, soon.

When he closes his eyes, he can see that beast of a master. He sees John’s hand cleaved clean, cutting clear and the crimson of his blood crushing down from the sudden wound. His sight had grown red - John had been foolish, silly to attack without assessing the master before attacking. But he had also been cowardly, sitting back instead of fighting first. 

Vera had also been strong that day to save him from Assassin’s deathly grips. Names and faces of his clan flashed in his mind. He was lucky that there were no losses today. His grip on the sword tightens.

He had considered his own death that day. If that darn priest hadn’t been there, he may have died by that vampire’s hand. How pitiful - to die so soon having made so much preparation. Maybe Caster had been right, he should have gotten out of there…

His train of thought is cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket.

_Speak of the devil._

Orlando makes sure there is a considerable distance between his ear and the phone before pressing the answer button. 

“Bro!” Caster bellows out. Orlando sighs.

He brings the phone back to his ear, the other hand running his hand over his face. He massages the bridge of his nose. “I thought you would be asleep, Caster. It’s almost 3am.”

Caster scoffs, “What! Never!”

“Had you not slept through the battle between Gilgamesh and Lancer?”

“Well, yes, I had! Which is good - you do know that sleep is good for you, right? I’m surprised you still have mana to supply me considering you’re always awake! Maybe that’s why you’re so eager to send me babes and food, huh? Saves a little of your mana for your lil’ beasties - of course, I can’t shittalk you for liking having familiars ‘round, I had so many pets in l-”

“Caster, shut up,” Orlando cuts him off. 

He laughs in response and Orlando hears a couple of bang noises in the background. “Sorry, boss! Must’ve gotten all riled up because of today’s fight! Man, I don’t know _how_ I’m gonna sleep after that one! I have so many ideas for weapons now! And stories! You know, I told myself that I wouldn’t write during this - only be a good servant and spectator - but this really gets the blood pumping!”

“I’m glad that all it takes for you to do your job is to see your allies almost die.” Orlando runs a hand through his hair. While he is happy to hear that Caster is finally interested in getting his work done, he would have preferred if it had been done before Orlando and his crew had almost died.

“An author cannot pick and choose what muses strike him! Be it a tulip, a newspaper article, a delicious dish or a woman, one’s inspiration is decided by the gods!” 

Orlando’s ear catches the meaning. Of course - why would Caster be calling this late at night? He’s like a kid who does his chores in order to get a new toy. He reaches down for his pager. It’s disgusting work, really, making Vera set up Caster’s carnal desires for him. Snowfield is not as big as their neighbouring Las Vegas, but there are still people handing out their escort cards for the night on the main strip. He never thought he would have any need for them, but he never expected Caster to be difficult.

“Is that what this call is for? Another woman? Or food?” Orlando is too tired to fight him on this. His body is sore but his mind is anxious. He cannot hate Caster - he too will probably need a drink or a melatonin to drift off to sleep that his body desperately needs. Sometimes he will listen to Caster’s advice. 

There’s a little pause. Orlando can almost see Caster’s smirk from the other side of the phone. “Well, about that.” He’s speaking quietly - perhaps the quietest that Caster has ever spoken over the phone. Orlando presses the phone closer to his ear.

“For tonight I thought I would prefer the presence of a man,” Caster whispers. 

A shiver runs up Orlando’s spine.

He swallows hard, “I… was under the presumption that you preferred the company of women.”

“Women are gifts from God, soft and precious, with talented legs and lips, of course,” Caster says casually, “But men bring their own talents, strong arms and a certain desirable _hardness_ , if you know what I mean.”

“Mhm,” is all Orlando says.

“And I’m sure that my letters to and from Hugo are probably considered the two of us just being bros!” He laughs hard at that.

Orlando nods. He has done ample research on Gilgamesh to know modern interpretations on him and his lover Enkidu’s relationship.

“Well, I’m sure we can set you up with a man tonight, might take a little bit longer. Any preferences in type?” Orlando is sure he has seen ads for tiny frail things or massive men who dwarf him in stature and muscle.

Caster hums from the other end, thinking over his possibilities. “Maybe an older man? Someone around my age? A little older?”

This raises Orlando’s eyebrows, “That might be harder.”

Caster ignores his comment and continues, “I do love a man in uniform, maybe like a soldier or a pilot or hm, a _detective_. Someone in power, preferably, to _dominate_ me, maybe.”

Orlando knits his eyebrows, “You need not go into detail, Caster.”

Caster laughs, “Sorry bro!” There’s a pause. “Hm, trying to think of anything else… Maybe some mana would be nice, you could send over one of the big guys in your clan.”

“Not happening. I’m not going to bend my workers so you can get in a good fuck.”

That was the opening Caster was waiting for - Orlando is unaware he’s in a trap until his words have tied his ankles. “Well then, Captain, how about you come over?”

Orlando chokes on his spit and has to brace himself against the desk. “Me? Are you insane? No, no!”

He can hear Caster shrugging from the other end of the phone, “Is it not common for a master to administer mana directly?” 

“Are the girls and food plus my mana not enough for you?”

“Perhaps I wish to taste it directly,” Caster purrs into the speaker. Another shiver runs down.

“No, not happening. I have to stay here anyways in case Faldeus or Francesca decides to ruin my day,” Orlando explains. He wouldn’t be surprised that either one of them would be showing up soon, based on tonight’s proceedings. This time was all the peace he could get before then. 

And Caster was spoiling it with silly hypotheticals.

However, the purring, the hypotheticals - they paint a picture in his mind that goes straight down to his dick. 

It’s been a while since he has had time alone. He’s sent as much of the clan home as he can, the regulars have gone home earlier. Only a few remain for the night, some scouring through the city to find the vampire, others to protect the building or help clean up the mess. These hours hinge on the idea there won’t be another attack on them that night - too much adventure for one day. 

So, he’s alone to himself. Well, alone with Caster’s voice.

“Well then, why not indulge me then, just like this?” Caster asks. 

Orlando sighs. He places his other hand on his thigh, palm squeezing into the flesh to keep it from wandering. “Is this really what you want, Caster? I can find a pretty little thing for you.”

His words feel like they are licking at the shell of his ear, “Of course, I want you.” There’s a pause. “You looked so cool today, bro! Who wouldn’t wanna suck your dick after that?”

“One rule - no bro.”

Caster laughs, “Okay, got it, got it.”

Orlando leans back into his chair, resting his arm on its rest and the other hand remaining on his thigh. “I will be honest. I have not done much of this before.”

“Oh? Well, telephones were not invented by my time, but modern knowledge has made me quite familiar with the sins of today,” Caster explains. “Would you like your author to weave you a tale, then?”

Orlando swallows hard. Of course he has read Caster’s stories, expert at weaving dialogue and plot alike. Caster has made him acutely aware of his prowess with seduction. By letting him lead it’s basically covering your eyes with one hand and letting him hold the other, leading you into darkness.

He closes his eyes, “Go ahead.”

Caster hums. His voice once again lowers. “Where are you?”

“My office, I’m sitting at my desk.”

“Right, right. Do you not have a place to sleep there? Like a couch or something?”

“I’m glad that the man who routinely fell asleep at his desk is worried about me sitting too much at mine,” Orlando quips.

Caster laughs, “I was just making sure you felt comfortable, is all!” Orlando readjusts himself so he’s more comfortable. 

“Well, of course I must ask - what are you wearing?”

Orlando chuckles at the clicheness of it all. He opens his eyes and studies himself. “My regular uniform. My coat is hanging on the door. I’m sure you’re able to gather everything from that.” 

“Mhm,” Caster agrees, “I always loved a man in uniform. Especially those buttons of yours, and that cape, you look so well done up.” There’s a little sigh from the other end of the line. “It’s like a pathway leading to perfection.”

“Do you… want me to undo some of them?” Orlando swallows. 

He’s fluttering his hand up to do just that when Caster tells him, “No no, I like to see you all done up like that. Nice and tight.”

“W...what would you like me to do, then?”

“Spread your legs a little for me.” He does, biting down on his lip as his pants strain against his growing erection. “Look down, and imagine me just in that space, under your desk, between your legs.”

Orlando’s eyes look where he’s told, and his mind does the rest, imagining his servant kneeling before him. His imagination is not as vivid as Caster’s, but the author’s words help him paint the picture.

“No need for me to have my coat on, make it all stuffy that way, so I’m just in my vest and dress shirt, front buttons undone so you can see down my neck and my sleeves rolled up. I’m hot and hard, my dick pressing against the confines of my pants, but I don’t touch myself, just looking up at you and waiting,” he explains, a little moan escaping from his mouth. 

“Are you hard, Orlando?”

“Master.” Orlando pauses before correcting himself, “Call me master.”

“Oh? Well then, _master_ , are you hard?” he asks again.

“Yes. I’ve...been quite hard for a while now,” Orlando replies.

“Is there anything you would like me to do, master?”

“Get my dick out,” Orlando commands. 

But it’s mostly so he can free his own, the friction from simply rubbing himself with his pants is not enough. Caster has said he likes him all done up, and his chest feels now constricted and tight. In comparison, Caster is loose and undone, and Orlando imagines the way his vest and shirt fall off of him, sweat dripping and voice loose. The only thing that is hard is his dick, and Orlando bites down on his lip as his mind wanders to it straining against its prison.

“Of course,” Caster says, and Orlando takes that as an invitation to free it. He shimmies a little, popping his pants button before undoing the fly, fishing his dick out from his boxers and revealing it to the air. It feels hot against the air, and he holds the base with his one hand. 

“It’s out,” Orlando informs him.

“Mhm, what a delight,” Caster hums. Orlando keeps his eyes stuck on the space between his legs, picturing Caster admiring the view from his spot. “Gosh, I wish I could be there to pepper it with kisses. To drink your mana straight from the source.”

“It would help to shut you up,” Orlando comments. His mind drifts to Caster’s mouth around his dick, his hand on his head, guiding more and more of his d-

“Getting carried away, are we? I thought I was supposed to be the author this time! Your breathing is quite strong, are you imagining me, on my knees in front of you, sucking you off? Taking you all the way down my throat? My lips are not just for reciting poetry and tasting food - I am quite skilled at pleasuring men with my mou-”

“It’s hard to imagine you sucking me off if you keep on talking.”

“Hmph, and to think that you wanted my descriptions,” Caster sighs. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Just one hand on the base, nothing more.”

“Then,” Caster pauses and his voice becomes softer, “I lean in, one hand on the base the other slowly running my hand up and down your dick.”

Orlando follows suit, mimicking Caster’s descriptions as his hand moves up and down. 

“I can only marvel at your expression, the way you sigh and moan with my movements. My hand reaches and squeezes near the top,” he continues, and Orlando follows, moaning into the phone as his hand pinches the tip.

“You’re quite big in my hand, aren’t you? Gosh, just imagine me trying to fit all of this inside of me.” This time, Caster is the one to groan, and Orlando bites further down on his lip. His mind wanders, imagining fucking him on his desk, flipping him over so his stomach lies flat down onto the desk, ass up and getting fucked hard.

“Shit Caster,” Orlando swears under his breath, increasing his pace. “Is that what you want? For me to come down there and fuck you silly? Is that what you need to get your work done? A good fuck? Are those girls not enough for you?” He doesn’t even know what he’s really saying, his mind clouded in lust as his pace increases.

Caster doesn’t seem to mind though, sweet moans dripping from his lips as he agrees, “Yes, please, I’ll make the trip down worth it for you.”

Orlando laughs, his hips bucking up as precum begins to dribble down his dick. “You better.” He moves his body so his back is straight, his hand moving wildly up and down, his other hand grasping his phone. “My mana doesn’t come cheap, after all. I should make you gobble it all down and clean me up after fucking your ass.”

“Yes, will do, I’ll lick your fingers clean and show my mouth is clean,” Caster tells him, “I’ll make sure my ass is ready for you when you call telling me you’re coming down so you don’t have to wait for me.” 

“Perfect.” Orlando smiles as bucks his hips up. He can feel it, the pent up frustration all resulting in crescendo. He sucks in his breath, face hot and body sweaty, biting down on his lip to stop more moans coming out.

“Are you going to come soon, Master?” Caster asks and the words spiral in his ear. 

He nods before realizing Caster wouldn’t be able to see him, “Yes, very much so.”

“Then do it - come on my face and hands. Imagine I’m there, palms up, ready to accept your golden ichor!” 

And he does, thrusting his hips up and swearing into the phone, hot cum flying from his dick to hit the desk and coat his fingers. As he descends from his high, his mind pictures Caster’s face covered in him, his sly tongue reaching up to lick at his lips.

He swallows hard and lies back into his chair, hand still loosely holding onto his dick. His jacket feels tight and sweaty - he’ll need a shower soon.

Caster’s laughter rings through his ear, “Congrats, bro! Good job!”

He rolls his eyes, but yet, something is in order: “Thank you, Caster.”

“No problem man! Whenever you need some...stress relief, I’m here! Can’t have ya dying of overwork now can I.”

Orlando knits his eyebrows, “No, I suppose not.” A rather pitiful way to die during a grail war.

The two settle in silence, but a question still remains. “Did you...um, also reach completion?”

“Well you didn’t say I could touch myself at any point so…” There’s a pause. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until you come down here.”

Orlando’s face reddens at the thought and he quickly does his pants back up. “Maybe - now get back to work.”

He hangs up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> hi here i am to ruin the fate strange fake ao3 tag yet again with more dumas bullshit : )
> 
> have a lovely day  
> @avicebro on both tumblr/twitter


End file.
